The First Day

Harry tried to twist out of Ginny's grip, but she had surprisingly strong hands. Must be all that Quidditch practice. 'If I stay, will you please tell me what's going on with you?' He felt Ginny's fingers release his coat, and he spun around to face her.

'I need time,' she whispered.

'Time for what?'

Ginny ran her hands through her hair and sighed. 'Everything.' She walked back to the boulder and slumped on it, pulling her knees into her chest. 'I need to figure a few things out...'

Harry frowned. Ginny was being awfully opaque, and he was certain she wasn't going to voluntarily elaborate. 'Do you want to break it off with me?' he asked bluntly, not caring for this evasive Ginny sitting in front of him.

'No...'

'Then what are you trying to figure out for Merlin's sake? I mean you were all over me at the train platform in September, and today you can't even bear to look at me...' When Ginny didn't respond he added, 'It's the hair, right? I let your mum cut my hair the other night...'

'It's not the hair,' Ginny muttered.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut. 'Then what is it? I'm not very good at this... Dating, I mean. So you're going to have to tell me exactly what you mean.'

Ginny buried her face into her knees. 'It's so stupid,' she groaned.

'Must not be too terribly stupid if you're working yourself into a state over it,' Harry ventured.

Without lifting her face from her knees, Ginny mumbled, 'You.'

'What?'

Ginny slid off the boulder and began to amble around the clearing. 'What I said over the summer still stands. I won't live like I did last year. Not just I can't do it. But I won't do it.'

'Barring anyone else figuring out how he did it all, Riddle's methods died with him,' Harry stated. 'It won't be the same. I'm not promising I'll be able to tell you everything, but I can't see having to cut you off completely like that...'

'And just getting some space between us.' Ginny's hair gleamed dully in the weak sunshine attempting to break through the low, grey clouds. 'I started thinking; do I love you or Harry Potter...?

'Oh.' Harry forced himself to take a deep breath. 'Gin... you're only seventeen...' he began. 'And I'm only eighteen. I forget how young we are sometimes... We don't have to decide anything right now. I thought that was the whole point of dating...'

'Well, yeah, I suppose...'

'So, what's the rush? I'm not particularly interested in following in my parents' footsteps.' Harry stopped and realized how bad that sounded. 'Just in that they were pretty young when they got married,' he added in a rush. 'I just want to spend some time with you.'

'You don't mind?'

'A bit,' Harry admitted. 'I really mind all the talk about Dean, though,' he said darkly.

'I needed to talk about something,' Ginny said defensively. 'And I didn't think, "Dear Harry, I'm doubting my feelings for you." would go over well in a letter... And in case you missed it, Dean went off with Luna. Besides, he's awfully lonely here without your lot,' she added. 'You and Ron didn't come back, and neither did Seamus or Neville. He's stuck in a dormitory with the boys from my year. He doesn't have many friends in Gryffindor anymore, other me and the other team members, and they're all a bit younger.'

Harry pulled his glasses off and began to pinch the top of his nose. It was a gesture that was increasingly becoming more and more commonplace. 'I'd rather you just told me what was going on with you,' he muttered crossly.

'Even if it's something you might not like?'

'Yes... I don't want you to think you have to walk on eggshells on anything around me. I want you to put my arse in a sling if I need it. And I want you to be honest with me. Even if you decide you're moving off to... I dunno... America or something barmy like that... And you never want to see me again.'

Ginny pulled down a leaf, still clinging stubbornly to a tree, and began to methodically shred it into tinier and tinier bits. 'All right, then...' she finally said.

Harry released the pent-up breath he hadn't realized he was holding. 'Can we start this over?' He met Ginny and cupped her face between his hands and gently kissed her. 'Hiya...'

*****

'Did anyone ever tell you that you're difficult?' Harry asked conversationally, as they walked toward the school gates. He and Ginny walked close to each other, but not quite touching.

'Sometimes,' Ginny mused. 'Mostly Mum when I get my knickers in a twist over something and won't let it go.' She eyed the vivid slash of blue visible under Harry's open coat. 'Where did you find that?'

'Under the sofa last weekend. Teddy's starting throwing his things across the room, and the dragon ended up behind the sofa - and don't ask me how - and I tried to grab it and instead of pulling out a drool-covered, plushy, green dragon, I end up with a dusty Christmas gift.'

'I thought I put them away,' Ginny murmured. 'We had one for Bill, Fleur, Charlie, Percy - Mum insisted on making one for him - Fred, and George. I said we ought to have one for the three of you, just in case you came by for a bit. In disguise, of course...'

'Almost wish we had...' Harry commented. 'I could have used a jumper that wasn't getting holey.'

'Well, obviously, you didn't make it home and well, neither did Perce. I grabbed what I thought were yours, Ron's, and Hermione's and shoved them behind some boxes in the cupboard in my bedroom. I didn't look at the tags, to be honest. I was somewhat...' Ginny swallowed. 'Upset.' She glanced at Harry again. 'It looks nice on you,' she offered. 'Brings out your eyes.'

'Erm... Thanks...' Harry felt the back of his neck burn. Compliments were still something he wasn't comfortable hearing.

Ginny reached out tentatively and brushed the tips of her fingers over his hair. 'So you let Mum cut your hair, eh?'

Harry self consciously shook his head a little. 'Yeah. Hadn't cut it since Fleur got her hands on it last March.'

'You can tell Mum did it,' Ginny snorted. 'She always cuts it a bit too short.'

'Yeah, after she got through with Charlie last summer, he looked like those sheep at the farm at the other end of the lane by the Burrow after they'd been sheared.'

Ginny snickered. 'That's his fault for letting her do it. The rest of them figured out how to evade Mum years ago. Charlie's always a bit into his own world, especially if he's got that sketchbook around, and by the time he's noticed the others have found an excuse to be elsewhere, he's the only one left.' Ginny moved a little closer to Harry. 'Work all right?'

Harry shrugged. 'It's work. They're trying to figure out how to try the Death Eaters that survived without it degenerating into a media circus or a forum for settling scores or grudges.' He hesitated for a moment. 'They're investigating Percy,' he said quietly.

Ginny's feet slowed to a stop and she gaped at Harry. 'Whatever for?' she gasped.

'Conspiring with the Death Eaters...' Harry's hands went back into his pockets. 'I've only heard it around the Ministry. It might be a formality because he's working with Kingsley or it might be worse.' Harry's face crumpled into a grimace. 'I'm not really supposed to know anything, because, well, it's not ethical to investigate your own family.'

'Then why are you telling me this?' Ginny asked.

Harry heaved a sigh. 'So you know when it comes out in the papers. And it will come out in the papers. I didn't want you to be blindsided by it. I hated that when I was here.'

'Thanks...' As they approached the Three Broomsticks, Ginny reached down and picked up Harry's left wrist, tilting it up to see the time. 'Bloody hell, we've been a long time...'

'Surprised Ron hasn't sent out a search party yet?' Harry quipped.

'A little,' Ginny admitted.

'Hermione's a good distraction.'

'Any success in convincing her to come back?'

Harry shook his head. 'No. Not yet. Ron mentions it at least once a day. She ignores him. He mentions it again. She ignores him or rebuffs him. He lets it go for ten minutes. It goes on and on until they end up bickering. It builds up all week, then on Sunday after lunch...' Harry's shoulder rose in an eloquent shrug.

'Okay, stop. I've been having enough strange dreams as it is, please don't add to it,' Ginny begged.

'What kind of dreams?' Harry shot at her, suspicion coloring his voice. To his complete surprise, Ginny's face immediately suffused with a rich rosy glow.

'Just... dreams...' she muttered.

Harry's hand darted out and closed around Ginny's arm. 'What kind of dreams?' he demanded.

'Nothing sinister, I promise...' Ginny assured him. 'They're dreams. Dreams where weird and strangely... pleasant... things happen...' she choked, feeling her face burn even more. She took a deep breath. 'Don't let me forget to pick up some chocolate later.'

'I thought you said they were pleasant,' Harry said in bemusement.

'Oh, well, they are,' Ginny stammered. She could feel the prickle of sweat breaking out along her hairline. 'It still helps...' She pushed open the door of the Three Broomsticks and began to scan the crowded tables for Ron and Hermione.

'There.' Harry pointed to a table in the corner. Ron was scowling into his bottle of butterbeer. 'I wonder what's got him shirty already...'

'He's probably ready to chew his own arm off from hunger, and Hermione won't let them get lunch because it wouldn't be polite to not wait for us,' Ginny reasoned.

'That makes sense.' Harry followed Ginny to the small table and wavered with one hand on the back of an empty chair, unsure of whether to pull it out for her, like he'd seen Bill do for Fleur a few times, or let Ginny manage on her own. Ginny took matters into her own hands and plopped into the chair next to Hermione, who gave her a significant look, to which Ginny replied with a small tilt of her head.

The door opening caught Harry's attention and a tall wizard Harry had never seen before loped into pub. He wore jeans and a jumper with the casual indifference Harry almost envied. 'What are you looking at?' Hermione asked absently, perusing the single laminated card that made up the pub's menu. She glanced in the direction of Harry's gaze and her eyes widened as she made a low appreciative whistle. 'Who is that...?'

Ginny looked up, then turned back to the menu. 'Professor Carter,' she said. 'New Defense professor.'

One of Hermione's brows slowly rose. 'How do you get anything done in class with him walking around...?

'Hermione!' exclaimed Ron.

'Hmmm?'

'I'm right here!' Ron huffed. 'Bloody hell!'

'I'm not dead, Ronald,' Hermione murmured.

The corner of Ginny's mouth twitched. 'He usually wears robes in school,' she told Hermione. 'Hides his bum, so we're not distracted.'

'Oh my...'

'Miss Granger!' McGonagall materialized seemingly out of thin air.

Hermione stilled and she turned her head carefully. 'Oh, professor...' she said weakly.

'I assume you three are staying for dinner?'

'We thought about it,' Ron interjected.

'Very good,' McGonagall pronounced, a small smile curling her lips. 'I'd like a word with you after dinner in the staff lounge, Miss Granger, if you don't mind.'

'O-o-of course...'

'I shall see you there, then.' And with a nod, McGonagall melted into a knot of Hogwarts' staff.

*****

Hermione perched gingerly on the edge of an armchair by the fire in the staff lounge, her hands laced tightly together. 'So you wanted to see me, professor?'

'Miss Granger, I'm trying to understand why you didn't return to school in September. Of all the students who should have finished their seventh year, I would have thought you would be the first one on the train.'

'I was in Australia,' Hermione began. 'I didn't know when I was going to be back. And we couldn't get back before September first.'

'Hogwash,' McGonagall pronounced firmly.

'Excuse me?'

'Hogwash. If you had needed or wanted to get back sooner, Maisri Richardson would have been able to arrange it. And if not, she's not worth the title of Australian Minister of Magic. You are welcome to return to school for the rest of the year. If you want.'

'But I've missed the first two months of the term,' Hermione argued.

McGonagall stared at Hermione for a long moment then burst into peals of laughter. 'Missed the first two months! Oh, Miss Granger, I've needed a good laugh. If anyone can miss the first two months of term and still end up at the top of their class, it's you.' She sat up a little straighter. 'We - the other professors and I - will give you an exam over the material the other students have covered so far. If you pass it with at least an "E", then that's it. Anything less means you'll have extra lessons to catch up.' McGonagall eyed Hermione. 'But I highly doubt you'll need those.' She picked up a scroll and tapped it with her wand. 'Now, then, what classes will you be taking?' she asked briskly.

'Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, Potions, Defense, Charms, Transfiguration, and Herbology,' Hermione said automatically.

'That's what I thought you'd say.'

The light in Hermione's eyes faded. 'I need to discuss this with my parents first...'

'Understood. I'll expect an owl with your decision by Wednesday.'

Hermione nodded and tried to smile.

It was what she wanted... Wasn't it?

*****

There was something about making love with Ron that Hermione thoroughly enjoyed. Not just the obvious physical pleasure of the moment that left them both limp in that odd sort of boneless satiation. No, that wasn't the reason the reveled in the exploration of the body and senses. She loved the gradual stripping away of the prim layers that made up one Hermione Jean Granger, Insufferable-Know-It-All. It also held the additional benefit of making her brain... Stop... She didn't hear the endless stream of information whirring about in her head, weighing doing this against doing that, potions ingredients, magical theory, incantations... Even snatches of Muggle literature she remembered from her childhood. The only thing that existed from the moment her hands met Ron's skin was just the two of them in that moment. The only language she recognized was the complex weaving of hands, lips, and murmured sighs and gasps. She could quite forget about Ron, lost in the clutches of her own gratification. At least until his hands landed on either side of her hips in mute entreaty. She almost hated the inevitable ending when the slipstreams of ideas crept back into her thoughts if she wasn't able to sink into sleep.

She'd agreed to follow Ron to bed with alacrity when they had finally returned to the Burrow. She didn't want to think about anything just then. And Ron deserved nothing less than all of her attention at that moment.

Ron smoothed her hair away from his face with a languid hand. 'You're awfully quiet tonight, hen,' he murmured drowsily.

'What?'

Ron bent his head and kissed Hermione's bare shoulder, pulling her back against him. 'Usually you get a bit chatty about now. Kind of talk about whatever pops into your head, it seems like.'

'What should I do?'

Ron sighed and tugged on Hermione's hand until she rolled over to face him. 'You know what I think,' he told her.

'Is that what you really mean?'

'Mione, I want you to be happy. And finishing school... I think it'll make you happy.'

'But my parents...' Hermione said uncertainly.

'They'll understand. It's only a few months, then you've got the rest of your life.' Ron used a finger to tip up Hermione's chin so she could look at him. 'Do it,' he urged softly.

'You're not just saying that because you think it's what I want to hear, is it?'

Ron bit back an irritated retort. 'No.'

'But -'

Ron sat up, frowning down at Hermione. 'If you're not going to bother listening to my opinion, then why in Merlin's name did you ask for it?' he hissed.

'Because I value what you think.'

'Not right now, you're not...' Ron slid out of the bed, and snatched up his boxers from the welter of clothing on the floor. He yanked a t-shirt over his head and grabbed the worn dressing gown from a hook on the side of the wardrobe and clattered down the stairs, not caring if he hit every creaky stair on the way to the ground floor, leaving Hermione staring up at the ceiling.

*****

Hermione woke up shivering against the chill. She blinked blearily before she remembered she had retreated to Ginny's room after it was obvious Ron wasn't going to return with any sort of haste. She snaked a hand out from under the heavy quilt and picked up the dressing gown she had dropped on the floor last night. After using her wand to put a Warming charm on it, Hermione dragged it on, still sitting in Ginny's bed, wrapping it around her in an attempt to thaw the knot in the pit of her stomach.

She reluctantly slid out of the bed and trudged up the stairs to the bathroom and tried the door. It was locked. She dropped to the edge of the step at the top of the landing and sat huddled in the recesses of her dressing gown, waiting. The door opened at length to reveal Ron, surrounded by dissipating clouds of steam and fully dressed. His mouth quirked with something Hermione couldn't identify and he slipped down the stairs, without a word.

She mentally shrugged and pushed herself to her feet to wash and dress for the day. She almost preferred it when Ron shouted at her than the silent treatment. That's how you knew a Weasley was truly angry. They didn't say a word.

Hermione supposed Ron had every right to be tetchy with her at the moment. She'd asked what he thought, then immediately dismissed it. Like he was one of those stuffed toys with the string in back - the kind where you pulled the string and a pre-recorded saying played while the string slowly receded back into the toy. She did love him, but it didn't mean she didn't wonder if he was just saying what would get her to stop talking, just to avoid the entire discussion.

The truth was, she did want to go back.

And she didn't.

*****

Hermione Apparated into the back garden of her parents' house, still no closer to a decision than she'd been that morning. She wearily pushed open the back door of the house and dropped her knapsack next to it. Following the sounds of her parents' voices, she trailed into the sitting room and flopped into a large armchair by the fire. Her mother looked up from where she sprawled on the sofa, idly scanning the Sunday paper. 'Have a nice visit, dear?'

'Yeah... I suppose.'

'Then why so glum?'

'Professor McGonagall told me I can still go back to school and finish.'

Jane lowered the paper with a frown. 'But isn't that a good thing?'

'Yeah. I guess.'

'So...? I imagine you're quite bored hanging around here all the time.'

'A little,' Hermione admitted reluctantly.

'So, what's the problem?'

'You just got home!' Hermione burst out. 'I missed an entire year with you, and I can't just leave again.'

Jane eyed Hermione for a moment. 'You were never this uncertain about leaving before,' she stated. 'You couldn't wait to go back.'

'But it's different this time,' insisted Hermione.

'We'll write,' Jane said. 'Just like we always have. And if what you told your father and me in Australia was true, it's perfectly safe to leave us alone now.' She ran a finger over a headline in the paper. 'And I don't think you'd be happy trying to go to uni. Most non-magic careers didn't seem to interest you before you went away to school as it was.' Jane's eyes narrowed. 'Didn't you get a letter in August about not having to finish school anyway and they'd let you start where ever you wanted?'

'Yes, and I turned them down.'

'But why?'

'Because I want to earn it...'

Jane swung her feet to the floor and tossed the paper into a large basket next to the sofa. 'You seem to have rather neatly painted yourself into a corner, dear. Unless you want to stay in this odd sort of suspension, unable to move forward, but not able to move backward. And you've never been able to leave anything unfinished. If you don't finish school, Hermione, I have a feeling you'll regret it. And leave your father and me out of the equation when you're trying to decide.' Jane ambled toward the door. 'Care for some tea?'

*****

Hermione walked out of the post office in Diagon Alley with her head bent against the drizzly mist that seemed to have descended on London with a vengeance. She automatically turned and trudged down the length of the street to the shop and went inside. Ron was arguing with George about the placement of the products for the holidays and Hermione waited until George stormed off, the back of his neck bright red, before she approached Ron. 'I've sent my decision to McGonagall,' she said tentatively.

'That's nice.' Ron snagged a box off the counter and carried it to set of tall shelves and began to Banish the boxes of Deflagration Deluxe too the top shelf.

'I told her I was going back,' she said.

'Hm.' Ron went back to the counter and pulled out a ledger book, copying a list of ingredients into a smaller book.

'I'm leaving Saturday. Taking the Knight Bus.'

'Well, then, you ought to go get your things sorted, shouldn't you? I'm sure you have lots to do. Books to buy, new uniforms...' Ron closed the ledger book and crammed the smaller one into a pocket of his jeans. He pulled the magenta robes off and headed for the back.

Hermione nodded. 'Yeah. I do.'

Ron disappeared through the curtain and emerged a moment later, pulling his coat on as he walked out the front door, slamming the door behind him.

*****

More than a week later, Hermione was idly stirring milk into her coffee at breakfast when owls began to stream into the Great Hall to deliver the morning post. She was surprised when a large barn owl dropped a badly-wrapped parcel next to her plate, sending cutlery skittering across the table. 'That looks like it's from Ron,' Ginny commented, dropping into the seat next to Hermione.

'How can you tell?' Hermione picked up the cup and cradled it between her hands. She had forgotten how chilly it could be in the school first thing.

Ginny flicked the haphazard wrapping job. 'There's more Spellotape on that package than paper. That's Ron's motto when it comes to wrapping gifts. The more Spellotape, the better.'

'That sounds about right,' Hermione murmured, setting her cup down and picking up the package. It was rather squishy. She ripped through the layers of brown paper and Spellotape, revealing a patch of bright orange. Curious, she pulled the rest of the paper away and Ron's beloved Cannons t-shirt spilled into her lap, along with a folded piece of parchment. Hermione thumbed open the slip of parchment and Ron's untidy scrawl skipped across the note.

-You forgot something...